Do not stand at my grave and weep

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
Your piteous words disturb my Sleep.
You may have laughed, to see me cry,
So why do you mourn after I die?
A word before, could all have changed,
We could be happy, so mad, deranged,
But now I cannot hear your words,
As I am the food of carrion birds.
My soul somewhere with vengeance burns,
Where you shall return, when Death yearns,
And I will wait with spiteful glee,
To know that you are just as Dead as Me.

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